


Contingency Plans (aka Operation: Get Noct Up)

by SirLadyScripts (SirLadySketch)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crack fics, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Ignis ending, M/M, Mature for implied sexy times later on, Multi, Noct against the world, On Hiatus, Operation: Get Noct Up, Tags Will Probably Change, This is pure crack you guys, aka the world conspires against him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadyScripts
Summary: Despite all the odds, Noct somehow makes it through the fight against Ardyn. The sun is up, the city is not a COMPLETE pile of rubble, and Ignis found his dad's private stash of booze in the royal apartments. Noct didn't plan this far in advance-- didn't think he'd need to-- but he's an easy going guy, they can wing it.But then Gentiana crashes their celebration with an ultimatum, and now it seems like everyone is against him.Crack fic set after the Ignis ending, so spoilers for that-- see author's notes at the end of the fic for more details.(On hiatus)





	Contingency Plans (aka Operation: Get Noct Up)

Ardyn was dead.

(....Probably)

They'd used the power of the Crystal to stop him, anyway, and although his dying words were a threat that he would return, the sky cleared, the sun came out, and Noct left the throne room to reconnect with his friends outside of the citadel, the demons finally banished.

The next few hours passed in a somewhat of a blur; he'd been injured during the fight with Ifrit, and going against Ardyn hadn’t done the burns any favors, so Ignis demanded that he rest while they secured the perimeter. He sat on the crumbling steps, sipping from an elixir under Ignis’ worried gaze as Gladio checked the immediate area. Prompto radioed into Hammerhead to share the good news and to request immediate backup, chatting with Talcott for a few minutes before signing off to preserve the battery. Hunters were en route, and the remaining Glaives (such as they were), were getting called back, but it would take a couple of days for them to muster to the citadel, during which time they were on their own.

By unspoken and unanimous agreement, they retreated from the broken throne room to seek out areas that had been less affected by darkness’ taint, and at length they found themselves upstairs in the royal suite. There was no indication of Ardyn even approaching this part of the keep, the hallways covered in a thin film of dust that stirred into little eddies as they passed.

Noct stopped in front of the doors that lead to the private domain that had once been his father's,  and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay beyond. A comforting hand fell on his shoulder-- he wasn’t sure whose it was, but he knew that the three of them stood at his back, and he smiled, standing a little taller. He patted the hand and then stepped forward, grasping the double doors and pulling them open.

All at once, the last memory of his father in this room came to him-- Regis telling him of Ardyn’s decree for marriage, what the King had hoped the peace agreement would mean for the kingdom, why he felt that Noct and his friends leave the city, rather than stay and marry after the treaty had been signed. Noct had wondered if the King had known something, but he’d never be able to ask now.

Now it was empty. It smelled of stale air and dust, and only cracks of sunlight managed to filter in through the curtains at the window. He walked over and pulled them open, spilling light into the room and temporarily blinding all of them. He turned and tried to take it all in, letting his eyes adjust. For better or worse, this was his now. His responsibility to pick up, his duty to carry on so that the kingdom could rebuild.

And it occurred to him in that moment, standing in his father's sitting room, that he had no plans for what to do next.

They'd been planning up to the confrontation with Ardyn, all of their efforts focused on getting to the city and ending the darkness. He hadn't planned to walk out of that alive, hadn't thought he'd need to plan beyond summoning the power of his ancestors to destroy Ardyn.

He had no contingency plan in place for the event of his survival.

Crap.

He turned to his friends, wondering if they’d come to the same conclusion.

“So… what now?” he asked, glad to see that they, too, were sort of standing in place, unsure of where to stand or what to say. Gladio waited half-in, half-out of the doorway, as though he hadn’t decided whether it would be better to stand guard in the hallway to watch for attacks or to stay by Noct’s side to keep him safe. Prompto decided to take that moment to snap a photograph, once again temporarily blinding Noct, but he didn’t have the heart to chastise him, overwhelmed by the fact that they _could_ still make memories after all of this.

As it was, Ignis was the first to come back to himself, quickly assessing the situation and coming up with a plan.

“Now, we take inventory, then we clean,” he said, running a finger along a dusty surface and ‘tsking’ as it came away with a white smudge. “And I’ll see about getting something prepared for supper, shall I?”

Fortunately, Regis had left them a gift to that end. They worked on each room together, dusting and taking stock of the items his father (or more likely, his father’s Glaives) had hidden in nooks and crannies. As they went through the bedroom, Ignis let out an excited “That’s it!” and pulled out a collection of what had to be Regis’ personal bar, still intact and ready to drink.

The first toast went to Regis, the next to the brave men and women who sacrificed so much to get them to this point. The following toast was to friends and loved ones, and the rest of the next two bottles went to reminiscing about everything and nothing in particular. They did not speak of the future; tonight was about remembering what had been. The future could be dealt with another day.

Of course, the gods always have other ideas.

Noct shuffled out of the bedroom sometime mid morning the next day, bleary-eyed and still slightly hungover. He'd beaten the others out of bed, something he'd tease them about to no end once they surfaced, but given the celebrations of the previous evening, that was hardly a surprise. Somewhere along the line he'd lost his jacket and pants, but given the fact that it would be days before the hunters arrived and the guys had seen him in far less, he didn't really worry about it that much.

He was moving on autopilot through the rooms, taking the quiet of the morning to remember his father and the happier times they'd shared. He drew back the curtains in each room he entered, flooding the apartment with light and feeling better, more confident about what was to come. He could see the city-- _his_ city--  below, and while there were significant signs of damage, it looked like some districts had come through more intact than he’d initially feared. They'd have to investigate as soon as the teams reported in, of course, and they’d need to confirm that the daemons were completely gone, but they might be able to start moving people back into the city within a week or so, and then the real work would begin.

He turned from the window, lost in thought, and paused, staring into the room. The wheels in his mind were… well, if not turning at quite their normal speeds, they were definitely in motion. All the same, it took him a moment to figure out why he was suddenly on edge, and what had changed in the room since he'd entered.

“Holy fuck!” he yelped, stumbling backwards and falling on his ass. He heard the distinct crack of glass, but he didn’t _feel_ anything, so he’d leave that on his ‘investigate later’ list, focusing instead on the intruder in the room. He grappled with the edge of a chair to pull himself back  up to his feet, swaying a little and blinking away the spots and wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him.

Gentiana watched him collect himself off the ground with a cool, somewhat distasteful look.

“Are you well?” she asked, taking his bumbling lurches in stride and watching him attempt to look presentable. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, very much aware of his missing pants, and reached forward to pull a blanket off one of the chairs in the room, wrapping it around his waist.

“Ah--Sorry, I mean, um, Gentiana, we were celebrating, and, ah, hm, we weren't expecting you, what, ah, brings you here?”

“What were you celebrating?” She asked, and there was a definite chill to her voice, although she didn’t _appear_ to be angry. He wished he still had that elixir from the day before to deal with the headache he could feel forming at the back of his tongue, something to give him an edge and sharpen his thoughts enough to hold--and remember-- a conversation with a goddess.

“We beat Ardyn,” he said, blinking at her. “The sun is out. We’re all alive. Take your pick.”

“Hmm,” she replied, as though she’d _forgotten_ the fight he’d faced… gods, was it only yesterday? Oh, shit. He’d beaten up her boyfriend, was that why she seemed off? Granted, she’d _helped_ him beat up Ifrit, but he couldn’t help but wonder what had brought her back so quickly-- if she’d even left in the first place.

“...Do I need to be sober for this?” he asked, wondering if it would be rude to rifle through the Armiger to pull out another elixir. Or to head back to his dad’s illicit stash of booze. “Or is this a case where I should drink _more_ to deal with whatever you have to say to me?”

This did earn him a slight smile at last, although it was brief. “I come to speak of you about grave matters,” she replied, and her eyes flicked to the other room where the guys were still sleeping off the various bottles of his dad’s private collection. “However, I imagine you will feel more inclined to the latter state of mind.”

“....Lemme get Specs,” Noct mumbled, then headed into the bedroom, shuffling over bodies and squinting at the shapes in the gloom, trying to figure out which one was which. He could’ve bent down to get a closer look, but in the end he figured that 1, they’d all probably want to hear what the goddess had to say, and 2, if he knelt down he might not be able to get up.

“Rise and shine, people! We’ve got company. Prompto, gimme my pants back.”

A few minutes later, the four were all more or less dressed and awake, sitting on one of the long couches in the parlor while Gentiana sat perched on one of the large reclining chairs. Ignis had tried to make it less awkward by offering her a drink, but she’d politely declined, and anyway there didn’t seem to be any tea or coffee left in the apartment’s kitchenette, at least nothing that could be considered safe enough to use.

Noct cleared his throat, praying that he was sober enough to deal with whatever pile of shit (and let’s face it, dealing with the gods had never been anything but a shitty experience) Gentiana was about to give him.

“So, why’re you here?” he asked again, trying to sound polite and courteous and not like he could taste the sunlight through the dull ache of an oncoming migraine. “Ardyn is gone, and I have a kingdom to get back together. Are you here to offer me advice?”

“Hardly,” Gentiana said, voice crisp. She brushed off imaginary dust from her long skirts, giving a little sniff as she continued. “Ardyn has been temporarily dealt with, as Bahamut told you from the start. Because you failed to destroy him, he will rise again, years from now, to attempt to take over the world once again.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Noct felt the guys around him stiffen, not quite ready to draw weapons, but they were all starting to realize that it might not be best to deal with an angry ice goddess when you were three and a half sheets to the wind. Noct regretted not getting a drink-- elixir or alcohol, either would’ve been a nice distraction and excuse to look away.

“You failed in your primary task as The True King, and therefore, I have come to provide you with a new one,” she said, sitting primly on the edge of her chair. “You must produce an heir.”

Noct blinked at her, wondering if he’d heard that right. “I… what?”

“You were chosen to save the world from darkness once and for all. You failed to do so--”

“Yeah, I got that part, sorry I lived. What’s the bit about the heir?” he cut in, but she ignored him, talking over his interruption.

“--so you must continue the Lucis line so that another King of Light will rise to do what you were unable to do. This is your obligation as king,” she said. She clasped her hands in her lap and smiled, looking as though she’d just made an innocuous comment about the weather. Noct spluttered, trying to pull thoughts out of the fuzzy wool that clouded his brain.

“Luna’s dead!” he protested. Gentiana had the decency to look sad about that, but her tone was matter of fact.

“Her brother has already begun making valiant efforts in continuing the line of the Oracle,” Gentiana replied, apparently unconcerned that Ravus might take offense at the goddess telling everyone of his unprotected sexual escapades. “It is now time that the King-- the sole wielder of the Ring-- do the same.”

Noct gaped at her, then looked to his friends, who shared mixed expressions of amusement and horror-- no doubt both at his expense. Noct ran fingers through his hair, trying to sort out what she’d said by repeating it aloud. “You just want me to… find some woman and…? How can you even…? Isn’t there something _else_ we can do to stop Ardyn from coming back?”

“The line of Lucis is the only one able to wield the Ring,” she repeated, speaking slowly this time to ensure that he completely understood what she was saying. “Therefore it is your responsibility to ensure that that ability is passed on to the future King-- or Queen-- who will destroy Ardyn completely.”

“You don’t make people just to sacrifice them,” said Noct, voice soft. He looked over at Prompto, who caught his meaning and flushed, one hand going up to cover his tattoo. Noct turned back to Gentiana. “You can’t ask me to do that, it isn’t right.”

“Do you object because you are angry that I say that you failed your primary purpose in life? Or are you angry that I suggest that you rectify the mistake?” she asked, apparently not willing to put up with his refusal. Then she looked at his companions for the first time and tilted her head, puzzled frown on her face. “Or is it because you prefer to lay with men and therefore do not believe you are capable of continuing the line?”

“I-- that’s--- that’s none of-- Augh! It’s just not right, alright!” sputtered Noct, face burning. He very carefully did not look at his friends as he spoke, clearing his throat and forcing himself to take slow, even breaths. He was the King. The very epitome of calm and collected. He was _not_ a rogue tomato in fancy dress, no matter how hot his cheeks felt.

“You lost your ability to contest this when you failed in your duty as King,” she repeated, standing and giving them all a level look. “I am telling you that it must be rectified, and soon. How you choose to do so is your own prerogative. Get it done, or we will be forced to take actions.”

And with that she was gone, leaving the four of them standing in the parlor, still hungover but not quite sober enough to believe what they’d heard, and definitely not drunk enough to put up with it. Noct fell back onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples.

Ignis was the first to speak, clearing his throat as a way to break the tension. “...Well, it seems that we have a bit of a dilemma,” he said, not daring to look Noct in the eye.

“You think?” Gladio asked, then laughed, slapping Noct on the shoulder. “We’ve dealt with worse shit than this, your highness. Plenty of ladies out there who’ll line up for a chance to jump in bed with you.” Noct paled and swayed under Gladio’s hand. “‘’Course, Iris might have something to say about that,” he mused, knowing his little sister would probably cut a bitch to be first in line.

“I don’t… want to do that,” Noct said, gritting his teeth and sinking down to lean against the arm of the sofa.

“Well, for what it’s worth, Gentiana raised a good question,” Ignis said, thinking out loud. “One that we must address before we can determine the best course of action. Why _do_ you object to producing an heir, is it any of the reasons she mentioned?”

“Ugh… all of the above?” Noct replied, then groaned into his hands. “I can’t do this right now, we have survivors to help, relief efforts to organize, a city to clean up and rebuild-- I don’t have time to worry about wooing someone for the express purpose of getting laid and knocking up some woman so the gods will get off my ass!”

They had the decency not to laugh at that, but Noct could tell that they were just imagining it, a line of women through the streets of Insomnia, signing up to do their duty for Crown and Country. For the first time in 24 hours, he was having serious second thoughts about _not_ answering the Ring’s bloodthirsty call.

A quiet voice spoke up amidst their bemused ponderings, soft and hesitant, but clear enough that they all broke from their private thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m actually suggesting this, but some of Verstael’s equipment might be functional if you want to… skip the dating process.” The three of them turned as one to look at Prompto, who blinked at the sudden, intense attention he’d garnered. He took a step back, holding up his hands. “What? I’m not saying it’s a _good_ solution, but if you really don’t think you’re, um, _up for the challenge_ …. Aranea might know some scientists who survived and could help you out.”

“Or you could get it on with Aranea, she’s pretty hot,” Gladio suggested. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, as though imagining the scene. “And she’d probably be up for keeping the armor on, so you could pretend she was someone else if she’s not your type.”

“There is also rank to consider,” said Ignis, apparently thinking through the possibilities and actually _considering this what the hell._ “A king is usually required to marry into nobility, which is why Lady Lunafreya was such a good match. There may not be many candidates remaining, however, so that may be a moot point. Iris might actually be our best candidate to put forward-- she has an established relationship and affection for Noct, and the Amitica family line has certainly proven its fortitude these many long years.”

“Are you seriously pimping out my sister?” asked Gladio, crossing his arms and frowning in thought. “...I mean, you have a point, but _still_. That’s my little sister you’re talking about.”

“Your little sister took out three behemoths in as many months,” argued Ignis, warming up to the idea. “She could certainly keep Noct in check.”

“Guyssssss you’re forgetting the fact that Noct doesn’t _want_ to knock up anybody!” protested Prompto, earning a grateful look from the King. Then he lost it when he continued, “...although knowing the Empire, they probably have everything you’d need for a Luna clone. Would that be weird? I feel like that would be weird.”

“I’m telling you, we pay Aranea to pop out a brat and it’s done-- no need to break any hearts over it, it’s strictly a business deal,” said Gladio, mind already made up.

Ignis pushed his glasses further up his nose, squaring off against the larger man. “And as much as you may not _wish_ to hear it, I still believe your sister is our best option, and Iris would agree with me.”

“Or we could, you know, _not_ worry about producing an heir right now and focus on stuff like getting farms up and running again, or, I don't know, helping survivors rebuild parts of the city so they can come home,” suggested Noct, but the three people he considered as his only surviving family just looked at him, shaking their heads.

“Dude, did you _see_ what Shiva did to Ifrit? He's her boyfriend and she STILL turned him into a popsicle. No way am I letting her get pissed off at you, buddy,” Prompto said, shivering at the memory.

“It’s not the end of the world, kid. I’ll talk you through it, and we can get you _really_ drunk if you’re that worried about it,” Gladio promised.

Ignis patted Noct’s shoulder. “It will all work out for the best,” he said, giving Noct a sympathetic smile. “It shan’t be that terrible a fate.”

Noct stood and walked into the bedroom, leaving the three of them to contemplate their newest quest, _**Operation: Get Noct Up**_. He’d been right; he was definitely _not_ drunk enough to deal with this shit.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Ignis Ending Note--** If you watch the scene with Noct on the throne, you'll notice that he still wears the Lucis Ring, which (to me) implies that he only temporarily killed off Ardyn, and another King/Queen will have to rise again later down the line to sacrifice themselves for Eos. I think that Noct will join the "greatest hits" rulers, aka the Kings who show up when you put on the ring, since I'm guessing they also fought Ardyn and failed to kill him outright. Anyway, Ravus is alive in this ending so the Oracle line can continue, which means the royal line is 100% Noct's responsibility. (poor guy)
> 
> This was supposed to be a oneshot but I need fluffy stuff to write while I finish my Kingdom Hearts fic, so you guys are getting four more chapters of crack, enjoy! :D


End file.
